


Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli.

by samalander



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Dating, Kitty - Freeform, M/M, Roommates, Starfleet Academy, godfather references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Academy: Sulu is tired of being sexiled by his underage roommate, apparent sex-god Pavel Chekov. So he enlists Jim Kirk to help him get laid. The perfect match? None other than the sewenteen-year-old sex god himself. HIJINKS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://emmypenny.livejournal.com/profile)[**emmypenny**](http://emmypenny.livejournal.com/) for the beta; she is wonderful and any errors are mine and not hers.  
>  For [](http://echoinautumn.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://echoinautumn.livejournal.com/)**echoinautumn** who needed a smile today.

Sulu was staring at the ceiling of Kirk's dorm room when Jim finally emerged from the bathroom.

He had decked himself out in a full tuxedo, and was stroking a cat that, Sulu realized, he had not had when he went into the bathroom to change fifteen minutes previous.

Jim opened his mouth, and Sulu caught the flash of cotton balls shoved in his cheeks.

"We have known each other many years, but this is the first time you've come to me for counsel or for help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your dorm for a cup of coffee, even though my roommate is friends with your roommate. But let's be frank here. You never wanted my friendship. And you feared to be in my debt."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Kirk-"

"I understand. You found paradise at the Academy. You had good grades, you made good friends."

"Seriously, Jim-"

"I'm not done, Sulu! I practiced this!" Kirk hissed, nearly dropping the cat in his rage. Then, affecting his former stance, he continued. "The fencing thing helped you and there were girls everywhere. So you didn't need a friend like me. Now you come and say "Jim Kirk, get me laid." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Admiral." You come into my dorm on the day my second Kobayashi Maru is to be administered and you ask me to find you love - for money."

Sulu waited, staring at the magically appearing cat. Jim sat there, stroking it, as Hikaru felt his blood pressure rise. Then, finally, he coughed. "Say your line, Sulu."

Hikaru sighed so hard Jim was ready for him to deflate. "I don't know my line, Kirk. I don't know what game you're playing. I know my balls are positively ANDORIAN right now and you took fifteen minutes to put on a tuxedo and- where the FUCK did you get a cat?"

There was no mirth on Kirk's face. "You- you've never seen The Godfather?"

"No. Please. I don't-"

"No, we are going to do this right." Kirk placed the cat on the floor and moved to rummage in the stack of holodiscs on his desk.

"Kirk-"

"No, Sulu, dude. We are going to watch the Godfather, and maybe Godfather 2 and then TOTALLY Godfather three, and then we are going to get you laid."

Hikaru gave another rather impressive sigh and moved to take off his boots.

"Honestly, Jim. The cat?"

A familiar sparkle graced Kirk's eye. "Hikaru, please. I have my ways of getting pussy."

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Sulu had gone to Kirk as a last resort. He'd been living with Pavel Chekov for the past seven months, and things were getting out of hand.

It had been slow at first, of course. On the third day of classes, Sulu came home to a note on the whiteboard that just said "KNOCK." It became their code, it became a joke. Sex, in their room, was "knocking."

Pavel and Christine Chapel? Totally knocked on her birthday in September and Sulu spent the night in the lounge. Then, after the Halloween party, Pavel knocked with John Kyle and Sulu managed to score a knock of his own with Kevin Riley.

But now, it was May. And Pavel had moved through most of the cadets in their year and Sulu had knocked... Kevin Riley. In October.

Blue balls was the nice way of saying it. Desperate was the accurate way. Not that Sulu couldn't take care of himself, when he needed to. He totally could. But when he was spending every other night in common areas, when he shared a shower, when he couldn't even shit without other cadets analyzing his technique, well, masturbation was the furthest thing from his mind. Hikaru needed something, and he needed it bad.

That, regrettably, was where Kirk had come in.

* * *

The Godfather 1, 2, 3, and, for some reason, The Musical, were followed with Scarface and Donnie Brasco and Goodfellas. By the time Sulu left Kirk's room that night (and returned to the goddamn KNOCK sign, fucking hell) Sulu wasn't sure what time it was, where he was, or if he was supposed to take a lesson from those movies. And if there was a lesson, was it "Drugs are fun and so is shooting so don't cross me, Sulu!" or was it "Kirk has odd taste in movies from 400 years ago" or maybe something about orange peels. It was edging towards 0300 - he had gone to see Kirk before noon the day before. This always happened with Kirk.

Hikaru sighed loudly and kicked the wall, hoping Pavel and whoever he was knocking - probably McCoy, AGAIN, goddammit, were disturbed by the noise, before trudging down to the lounge to spend another restless night, thinking of laughing eyes and curls and accents, and trying to ignore the rage in his chest and how it tasted, just faintly, of jealousy.

* * *

He slept fitfully, uncomfortable in the lounge for the first time he could remember.

Sulu was a trained cadet. At six, by hook or by crook, his body woke him up and he groaned.

Fuck Kirk. Fuck Chekov. Fuck McCoy or whoever it was. Fuck this couch. Fuck the world. This was the most hungover Hikaru had ever felt, and all he had done was watch a man strut across a view screen singing about the family.

Sulu groaned again and rolled over. Then he screamed.

Of course, confronted with Jim Kirk three inches from one's face often led to screaming if you were Hikaru Sulu. Jim grinned, and Hikaru revisited his early train of thought.

"Fuck you, Kirk, what do you want?"

Kirk tossed a PADD down next to him. "Surveys. Sexual ones. Fill them out. I'll put them in the database, we'll find you a fuck."

"You have a database?" Hikaru asked, wiping sleep from his eyes and wondering how it was Kirk managed to never look tired or annoyed or any of that when, as far as Sulu knew he slept two hours a day and never studied.

"You don't have a database?" Jim looked genuinely concerned. "How do you know how to find what you're in the mood for?"

"Go to hell, Kirk," Sulu groaned, pulling himself off the couch. "I'm going to take a shower, and go to class, and then maybe think about this damn form. Okay?"

"Whatever, man, but if you snooze on this, the good ones will be taken!" Kirk yelled at his retreating form. As the door swung shut behind Sulu, Kirk began to laugh. Oh, this was too, too easy.

* * *

The room was empty when Sulu came back from classes, and exactly as he'd come to expect. Chekov's side was cluttered, the mess of a boy whose mother had always cleaned up after him.

He'd met momma Chekov at move-in, watching as she fussed over her son's hair, straightened his collar, clucked over how far it was to the mess. Against his better judgment, Sulu had liked momma Chekov ("Marta, please, call me Marta!") and not a month had gone by where she didn't include a little note or trinket in Chekov's care package to be passed on. His favorite, by far, was the little cup she'd sent, black with yellow and green and red flowers. It had a name, something that sounded like cock-loma and Sulu always thought, when he saw it, of a giant penis taking over the world.

Sulu dropped his bag on his bed and rummaged in it for a moment, pulling out the PADD Kirk had given him. He'd carried it all day, glancing at it between classes and pondering the answers to questions like "Preferred age range" and "favorite position" and "desired cock length (where applicable)".

He was just settling in, just getting down to the business of answering these bizarre queries when, with a bang, Chekov entered the room.

"Hello!" he grinned, as cheery as always. Hikaru tried not to notice the sweat clinging to his brow, the whiff of something as he passed, the awkwardly beautiful way he fell onto his bed and kicked off his shoes in one motion.

"I have just run eight miles," Chekov groaned. Hikaru smiled to himself and gently mouthed the word "have" so that it was more like "haff." He liked the feeling of Chekov's words, sometimes. "And I am exhausted. I cannot even reach the refrigerator, Sulu, to get some water. I think I will die. Right here, on my bed."

They both knew Chekov was watching. Hikaru pretended to play with his PADD.

"People will come to you, they will say 'Ah, Sulu! Your roommate is dead, and he was so young and handsome. All for lack of water!' and you, you will have to join the beautiful women who will weep for the loss of me."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Lazy brat," he shot, leaning down to their fridge to retrieve one of Chekov's water bottles. "Can you catch?"

Chekov stuck a hand up in the air, and Sulu gently lobbed the bottle to him. It was a choreography they were used to by now, Chekov's lazy whining, Sulu's caving, the gentle arc of the water bottle across the room. Sulu reached up to touch gently at the nesting doll momma Chekov had sent thinking - not for the first time - that he was being paid to babysit.

Chekov fell silent, but Hikaru heard the telltale PADD sounds behind him that indicated his roommate was reading or doing homework, so he followed suit, and turned his attention to Kirk's survey.

* * *

The questions were, well, if Hikaru was going to be honest, they were exactly what he expected to find on a sex survey written by Jim Kirk. There was everything from the mundane (Name?) to the more Kirk-like. Hikaru found the section where he was asked to tick off which objects he'd stuck inside him to be particularly irksome, and was trying to figure out what kind of position an "upside-down lampshade ladybug fishcake jackknife" was and if he liked it when Chekov stood and stretched, revealing the pale skin of his stomach. Hikaru swallowed hard.

"Are you hungry?" Chekov asked, rolling his head.

"What?"

"Hungry. Do you want food?"

Hikaru shook his head. He was hungry, yes, but he hated eating with Chekov, not least because the younger man stole half to food off his plate when he wasn't looking. Sulu had grown up with three sisters, he was used to sharing, but they also tended to have the good sense to ask first.

"Can't, too much to do. But bring me a coffee?"

Chekov nodded and heaved his body off his bed, groaning with every movement.

"Alright. I will see if Leonard wants to join me," Chekov grinned, and Sulu felt his heart drop in his chest. Fucking _McCoy_ , he was like 10 years older than Pavel and always sniffing around. It wasn't right.

"You do that," Sulu nodded, and turned back to his survey.

What the fuck ever.

* * *

Jim's survey came back with one name.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov.

"Fucking _no_ , Jim."

"Come on, ‘Ru, just give it a try?"

Hikaru tried to stare daggers, but mostly he felt like crying. "No. And stop calling me that."

Jim shrugged. "The database doesn't lie, man. It says you're destined for Jailbait, you're destined."

Hikaru snorted. "And who are you _destined_ for, Jim? Yourself?"

Jim laughed, and Hikaru hated every fucking golden fiber of the other man. "I get more than one name, honey."

"I want more than one name," Hikaru said, feeling slightly petulant and not caring. "I want three names, and none of them can be Pavel. Yeah?"

Jim nodded, made some notes on his PADD and left. The next day, Sulu got his first name.

* * *

Gary Mitchell was a pain in the fucking ass.

No, scrach that, Gary Mitchell was a know-it-all, stuck-up, fucking berk of a pain in the ass. And Sulu wasn't even 100% on what a berk was, past Gary fucking Mitchell.

It had started innocuously enough.

Mitchell had shown up to Sulu's dorm 20 minutes early, as if he knew Hikaru would be ready and waiting. He brought flowers. Fucking calla lillies. Which yes, were Sulu's favorites, but really, Mitchell? On a first date?

And then, of all the fucking nerve, at the restaurant, he's ordered for both of them and it didn't _matter_ that Sulu loved the carnitas at Chapala and had been planning on them, he wasn't some kid who needed taking care of, and as soon as Mitchell ordered, Sulu'd lost his appetite.

They'd called it an early night, both making excuses about astrometrics homework that might have existed.

Sulu came home to a brazen KNOCK on the whiteboard, and did everything he could to keep from killing everyone in a three meter radius.

Instead he headed down to the lounge and spent a night on the couch, thinking about how Mitchell might be cute, if his smile was just a little brighter.

* * *

Date two was doomed before it started.

Gaila was a nice girl, sweet and sexy and all the things that most people want in a partner.

But at the end of the night, she was still a girl, and Hikaru was still extremely uninterested in all the parts of her south of her waist and north of her knees.

But they did have plans to go shopping the next weekend, and Gaila claimed to know people at the outlets.

Sulu came back to the room smiling, and Chekov had nothing to say about it.

* * *

Roger Lemli, on the other hand, was a little awkward, but funny and kind and cute. Sulu didn't know most of the security track, and it was good fun to have a new ear to tell his stories to, to have someone who understood the art of fencing, and the work that he put into his conditioning.

Not that Lemli was a fencer, but he'd done pole vault in his pre-Academy life, so they had enough to talk about that the beer ran out long before the conversation, and Sulu found himself gladly walking the other man to his door, standing outside it for another ten minutes, waiting to run out of things to say.

"My roommate's out of town," Lemli offered, a bit of a non sequitur in a conversation about non-sentient humanoid lifeforms. Or maybe not.

"Is that so?" Sulu smiled, and leaned in to kiss Roger, whose lips tasted like beer and chocolate and something spicy that didn't have a name.

Lemli leaned into it, parting his lips as Sulu gently licked into his mouth, tongues twining. One or both of them fumbled for the doorknob, and they fell, tangled, into the room, Lemli's knees banging sharply on the edge of the desk that Sulu backed him in into.

They laughed a little, kicking off shoes and pulling on shirts, and, clad only in his trousers and socks, Sulu found himself on the bed, straddling the other man's hips, their cocks separated by too much fabric and seeking desperate friction.

"You okay with this?" Sulu paused as he fumbled for his belt, seeing something in Lemli's face, something strange, but Lemli bit his lip and nodded. "Roger?"

It must have been the name that did it, because the next thing HIkaru knew, Lemli was shoving him off as tears streamed down his face. "Fucking-" the frustration bled around the edge of Roger's voice. "Just stop, Hikaru, Jesus Christ."

Hikaru stared dumbly. "Was it-- was it something I said?"

Roger laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "No. You're just--" he took a deep, shuddering breath and peered up through hooded eyes. "You're not Ryan."

Hikaru nodded, shoving stocking feet into his boots and snatching up his shirts. He didn't know who the fuck Ryan was, but he had to deal with the sentence at the front of his brain before he could parse the rest of it.

_And you're not Pavel._

Roger called an apology at Hikaru's retreating back, but he didn't stop. He didn't stop walking until he was standing in front of his own dorm room door, the white board, for once, blissfully blank.

He had two choices; go in and deal with the fifteen-year-old he was apparently in statutory love with, or never set foot in his room again. He sighed heavily, leaning against the wall.

He was so, so fucked.

* * *

"Dude, you are so fucked!"

Hikaru was staring at the ceiling of Jim's room again, a sense of deja vu heavy on his shoulders.

Except this time the mystery cat was lying next to him on the bed, purring and reminding Sulu how utterly alone he was in the universe.

"You know, you're not allowed to have pets in the dorm."

Jim laughed. "No, Sulu, _you're_ not allowed to have pets in the dorm. I'm Jim Kirk."

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man."

"Bones got him," Jim said, sitting next to Hikaru on the bed. "Said I was in need of constant companionship and Tribble - his name is Tribble - is a therapy pet."

Sulu's mouth went dry at his friend's sudden candor. "A therapy pet?"

Jim shrugged, the introspective mood lifting as quickly as it had settled over him. "He's my bud, we chill. So, you actually made Lemli cry?"

Hikaru shook his head. "Yeah. He said I wasn't Ryan, and I don't know who-"

"Ryan Leslie. Should have known."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they broke up a few months ago. Sorry, man, I thought he was good. But Gary. And Gaila. How did you fumble two sure things?"

Sulu snorted. "Mitchell was an asshole. Controlling and dickish. Gaila has gross ladybits."

Kirk sighed. "And you made Lemli cry. Well. I would just like to-"

"Don't say it-"

"-remind you about Chekov-"

Fucking hell. " _Chekov_ is fifteen and boning his way through every animal, vegetable and mineral he can find on the goddamn planet, and he's not interested in me."

Kirk just smile and slid a PADD at Sulu.

"Oh," Hikaru said, scanning the data. " _Oh._ "

* * *

"Pavel."

It was less a name, more of a command, falling from Hikaru's mouth. It said _look_ , it said _listen_ , it said _we need to talk_.

Pavel swallowed.

"Hello, Hikaru! How were your dates?"

His cheeriness was hard to maintain in the face of his often-surly roommate, but Chekov was from Russia, and if anyone could maintain joy in the face of gloom, it was the Russians. If Pavel's ancestors had trudged across Siberia in search of warm water ports with free access to the sea, he could trudge across the sullen countenance of Hikaru Sulu.

Who was holding a very familiar-looking PADD.

муди́ло.

"Notes," Sulu read, his voice sound strangled. "Please Mr. Kirk, I need to find a partner who is not Hikaru Sulu because he does not like me and I cannot stop thinking about his hands."

Pavel actually growled. He was rather impressed with himself.

"I wrote that in October," Pavel shot. October Revolution. "It no longer signifies."

Hikaru crossed the room, invading Pavel's space in a way he never had before. "Yes, it does," he muttered. "Because I went to Kirk for the same thing."

Oh. _OH._ Well. "You also find yourself with a fixation on your hands?"

Sulu laughed, the sound rare and lovely like a bird, and Pavel couldn't help himself. He reached up and kissed the older man, missing his mouth slightly, lips landing halfway between cheek and mouth.

Sulu stepped back. "You're fifteen."

Pavel shook his head. "You are a terrible roommate. Two days ago was my birthday. Sixteen. I am, well, legal."

The boys grinned at each other, stupidly, for all of a minute, before a voice floated in from the still-ajar doorway.

"Kiss."

Pavel raised his middle finger in a fine salute at Jim Kirk, who was leaning against the doorjamb. "Go fuck yourself, Mister Kirk!"

Kirk grinned. "Mikey, why don't you tell that nice girl you love her? I love you with all-a my heart, if I don't see-a you again soon, I'm-a gonna die."

Pavel stared blankly. Hikaru reached back and slammed the door shut.

Kirk smiled at the whiteboard in his face, uncapped the pen, and scrawled "Knock" across it in towering letters before turning, hands in his pockets, to get back to his business.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Sixth Life of Lachlan Nikhil Rebane, or, Tribble the Therapy Cat's Excellent Academy Adventure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/820389) by [samalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander)




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